


Stand By Me

by everythingwasragtime



Category: I Am Not Okay with This (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingwasragtime/pseuds/everythingwasragtime
Summary: In which Hannah Lewis moves to Brownsville, PA and falls for the town's resident red-headed superhero."Get in, loser. We're going to self-inserttown."
Relationships: Dina & Sydney Novak & Original Female Character(s), Stanley Barber & Original Female Character(s), Stanley Barber & Sydney Novak, Stanley Barber/Sydney Novak, Sydney Novak/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. Chicken Tender Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asphalt_sweetheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphalt_sweetheart/gifts).



Saying goodbye to your hometown of seventeen years can be heartbreaking, but it’s even worse when you’re leaving the windy streets of Chicago for shithole Pennsylvania. On Monday, I say goodbye to all of my friends. Ally says she’ll miss me, but I know that she has college apps and boyfriends on the horizon for her. There are hugs and tears, but I know they’ll forget about me and everything will fall back into place within a week. Meanwhile, my life is packed into boxes all day on Tuesday before we hit the road on Wednesday for our eight-hour voyage to Brownsville. The car ride is filled with my own teenage angst in the backseat, listening to old fifties songs and indie rock like it’s comfort food while my dad drives and my mom reads a book in the passenger seat.

Thursday, my dad reports to his new office in Brownsville, where we now live I fucking guess. Mom transferred to the insurance office in town, a branch of her larger company. And somehow, I’m expected to go to school like everything is normal. Mom and Dad talked to the counselor’s office over the phone and they say I’ll get a schedule and my locker combination that morning, not that it matters because I’ll just live out of my backpack anyway. I try to push my brooding aside for the morning as I situate myself in my new bedroom. On Wednesday night, I managed to get my bed, bookshelf, and an outfit for Thursday unpacked. The rest would have to wait. I pull on a 70s tie blouse and my mom jeans before scrunching my dark curls in the mirror and leaving the house. I didn’t need to spend more time here than I needed to, I guess.

Apparently, the walk to Westinghouse Memorial High School wasn’t a long one. I should have my license and be able to drive there, but being a lesbian, I’m incapable of driving. I’m supposed to be able to see the building from my porch and find a clear route to the front steps. However, after managing my way through some weird back alley, I clearly have no clue of where I’m going. I retrace my steps and take the other corner, now finally being able to see the cream-colored brick pictured on every Google Maps image of this place.

After a very awkward conversation at the front desk, I have a pink sheet of paper with my class schedule and locker combination on it. I see the school map on whatever corners I can find and I manage my way to the English hall for my first class. The teacher doesn’t make the dreaded “everyone, let me introduce you to our new student” speech, but instead, she makes a witty remark about the new face in the back of the class, which I actually enjoy.

But then, oh then, Sex Ed with Mr. File comes (haha). And while every room in this school looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 80s, Mr. File is one of those teachers that seems like he hasn’t updated either. He’s in a brown sweater vest and khakis, and he makes me want to shrink down into my chair when he announces that there’s someone new in the class. At this point, I’ve found an empty seat in the middle-back of the class, which is always good, and I’ve been left undisturbed throughout all of attendance, so I was hoping I’d be let off easy. But of course, it’s never easy, is it?

Thankfully, Mr. File doesn’t insist that I walk to the front of the room, and just asks that I introduce myself. “I’m Hannah Lewis. I’m from Chicago. We just moved here.”

As I speak, my eyes wander to the different faces staring at me. There’s one boy, with curly hair and a lanky build that looks like every white indie soft boy to exist, yet he seems pretty genuine. Although, his head kinda looks like a bicycle seat. I see a really pretty black girl, with bouncy curls and glossy lips. She seems really sweet. And there’s some kid in a letterman jacket with slicked-back hair like some John Hughes goon, with a punchable face. In my periphery, I can see the people next to me looking too, but I try to make as little eye contact as possible before Mr. File talks again. Thank god that my introduction is feasible enough and he leaves me alone for the remainder of the hour.

I make an attempt to pay attention, pulling one of my notebooks out of my backpack, but it isn’t easy when all of the boys in the room are full of sweat and testosterone as this man points out anatomy on a diagram of a penis. God, I cannot stand to hear this man describe an erection for one more second. I begin to glance around the room.

And then I see _her_.

And air catches in my throat abruptly.

I could say something cheesy like that music started to play in my head the moment that I saw her, but that would be a lie. It was more like everything just stopped for a single moment in time. Her hair is short and flaming red. Her eyes are light and icy, like early spring. She’s pale like a china doll, but with loads of tiny freckles dotting her face. She’s in a blue sweater and a corduroy jacket and she has a woven bracelet around her small wrist. Her nose is tiny and upturned and her lips are small and pink and full and—

Fuck.

She just looked at me.

Look away. The chalkboard, with a diagram of a penis on it. Focus on it. Not the pretty girl.

I wonder if she’s gay.

I mean, not to stereotype, but the haircut was giving off some serious queer energy. And the bracelet, a lesbian staple. I also couldn’t imagine a straight person wearing that jacket, but she could be. It was always a guessing game with this, a game that I could never win. Even when I thought my gaydar was so finely tuned, there were still glitches in the system. My freshman year art teacher wore leather jackets and had a boyish pixie cut and wore these ugly leather clogs and drove a motorcycle for fuck’s sake, and she ended up showing us pictures of her husband-to-be. A botched analysis for sure, but it just proves how faulty analyzing someone for their sexuality as a queer person can be.

But though I know I’m so uncertain, I know there’s a sliver of me that really hopes that this girl is.

Soon enough, the bell rings and I rush out of the room to avoid any awkward encounters. I’m still left wondering though, who is she?

I find my way to Mr. File’s other room next door for Chemistry. Another hour, same bullshit.

I spot her again in the lunchroom. She’s with that one girl from our Sex Ed class. They’re giggling and smiling and I wish I had the balls to talk to her. But of course, I don’t, and so the day is radio silence from there.

I successfully mumble my way through an hour of Math, and I manage to like my AP History teacher. He’s old and funny and liberal and gives me ally vibes.

Sixth period, I have to deal with P.E. Back in Chicago, you could take an extra History or English credit and it would replace the necessary P.E. credit. Not in Brownsville though. Brownsville said, “Fuck you! Run around the track in ugly gray sweatshirts,” which I quickly realize is exactly what the teacher plans on making us do. I figure this out once my hair is in the most god awful ponytail and I’m wearing the dreaded sweatshirt, standing out in the cool late-September air. I can’t believe October starts next week already.

I’m already pretty late getting onto the field and we’re supposed to run, so I rush my way to the track and start a light jog. I can’t believe we have to do this without music. Running without music has got to be some sort of government-created torture mechanism. But, I jog around the track until my legs hurt. I’m sweaty and gross and I can feel my hair starting to frizz up. I know my face gets particularly red too when I run, so I’ve got to look REALLY sexy at the moment. I slow my pace to a walk, hoping that the breeze will cool me down. Glancing around, I see some faces that I recognize from the hallways or from earlier classes. I see a jock from my math class running with some boys that he’s probably on a sports team with. I recognize the girl who sat in front of me during English due to the bright scrunchie she had in her hair. I look over to the bleachers, and sitting there is the girl with the red hair, sitting next to her friend, smiling and chatting. She looks up at me and my eyes dart away. Oh wow, I’ve gotta look really attractive right now. Nice impression to make, disgustingly sweaty, and as red as a tomato.

After class, I rush away again, trying to avoid this girl seeing me like this any more than she has to. I change back into my clothes, wipe my underarms with a baby wipe, reapply deodorant, and put on body spray and chapstick. Finally, less fucking gross. Now that I look decent again though, this girl has seemingly vanished off of the face of the Earth. I sling my backpack onto my shoulder and begin my walk home.

I spend the rest of my afternoon doing homework, catching up on whatever I can. Though Brownsville is almost a unit behind on some of the standard things I should be learning in every single one of my classes, they’ve got a lot of weirdly detailed work to go along with everything. Sometimes, it’s fun, like getting to draw silly political cartoons making fun of Gilded Age trust giants. Other times, it fucking sucks, like drawing four different step-by-step diagrams of chemical bonding. By eight o’clock, I’ve eaten takeout chicken tenders from a local diner brought home by my Dad and I’m caught up as best as I can be, so I take a crack at unpacking the rest of my shit.

Seeing a blank room that’s supposed to be like my own little corner of the world is dismaying. My bed has only a throw blanket on it, there are no paintings or posters on the wall. The closet is completely bare. Chicago feels further and further away by the minute.

I open up one of the cardboard boxes laid on the floor. I find my bedding, which I cover my bed in, making it feel a touch more like home. Another box has a painting of a 1958 red Corvette. I’m not a car girl, but the vintage ones look cool. I hang it up, along with a framed poster for the movie _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_ , with Marilyn Monroe. Of course, I had to have been born a vintage lesbian. Of course. I take my books out of a large box. God, I haven’t read some of these since middle school. I put my crappy collection of poetry on the top left, with the autobiographies and memoirs next to them. The YA fiction takes up the whole center shelf, and boy is there a LOT of gay shit in there. So many pretty queer girls falling in love. On the bottom left, I have classic books and plays, like _To Kill a Mockingbird_ and _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and all that shit. Then there are magazines on the bottom right. Lots of old _Vogue_ and a couple of _Rolling Stone_ s here and there.

I drag my nightstand out of the front hallway and equip it with all of my body spray and perfume, along with my alarm clock and an old lamp. I hang my white lacy curtains above the window and tuck my makeup in an organizer above my dresser. Somehow, I manage to unpack a lot of my clothes into my closet and organize some things into my drawers before eleven-thirty. After that, I string white Christmas lights across the ceiling. Once I turn them on, the room is cozier than it ever could have been before. It’s not Chicago, nor is it home, but it’s Brownsville. It’s what I have.

But no one cares about any of those mundane things, right? No one wants to hear about me unpacking my room.

No, they want to hear about _her_.

They want to hear about how my thoughts kept drifting to her as I hung up my clothes, as I put up my books, as I showered and brushed my teeth that night. They want to hear about the warm fluttering feeling I get in my stomach whenever I think about the second that she looked at me. This isn’t a love at first sight thing though, I don’t even know her and she probably isn’t even gay. Though, I’d like to know her. I’d love to see what her personality’s like, find out about her interests. I’d love to be her friend and laugh with her and maybe have her smile be directed at me.

And these thoughts, the frivolous and very VERY gay ones, are the ones that carry me to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is my attempt at a shitty self-insert IANOWT fanfic. I hope you all like it! I haven't written any fics in a couple years, but quarantine dragged this out of me! I have the whole thing written, it's just a matter of getting it all out.


	2. 420 Fridays

The next morning feels as boring as can be, if not for my unfamiliar surroundings. Nothing happens here and yet somehow, I have no clue of what’s going on at any given moment. I get dressed, make it to school successfully, and make my way to first hour English class like a champ. After a thoroughly bland discussion on the themes in _The Grapes of Wrath_ , I walk down to the Sex Ed room. I’m there a little bit early since the English hall is thankfully not too far from this room, so I stroll into the room.

And _she_ ’s there.

And her hair is even redder than I remember, and her skin is milky and she has so many freckles and she’s sitting in the seat next to mine, just like yesterday.

Before I can make it to my seat though, the curly-haired indie boy with the bike-seat head stops me.

“You ever heard of Bloodwitch?”

My mind stops for a moment, merely in shock, but I quickly try to remember if I’d heard anything from them before. “Below The Sea, right? I think I’ve only heard that one.”

He smiles. “Yeah, you’ve got it. I’ve got their older stuff on vinyl if you ever wanted to come over and listen.”

I smile. “That’d be great.”

I make my way to my seat, and this kid has moved to sit in front of me. The girl in the leather jacket who sat there yesterday is annoyed, but she quickly moves to the back corner. He turns to face me.

“I’m Stan, by the way.”

I smile back at him. “I’m Hannah.”

His glance trails over to the girl that sits next to me. She looks back at him briefly. Shit, was there something going on there? But she’s so obviously queer? I mean, I’m probably just stereotyping, people can be whatever they are regardless of what they look like.

The bell rings and File gets up from his desk to lecture. The rest of the hour, nothing new goes down. Although, I did stare at the pretty girl for an unreasonable amount of time. I don’t think I learned a single thing about conception, but I did learn about the way her freckles framed her light eyes and how her hair turned golden in the light. I’m so fucking gay, wow. It amazes me sometimes. I feel weird obsessing over her because I hardly know her, but she’s so pretty and perfect, and wow.

She doesn’t catch me staring, thank goodness. I just don’t want to look like a creep.

Once the class period is over, Stan makes another offhand comment about Bloodwitch before I make the walk down the hall to the Chemistry room.

Then, there’s lunch. This time, I am somehow not sitting alone. Stan sits across from me before I can protest, which is convenient because I doubt I would have anyway. He smilingly asks me about other artists, and I converse back about which I’ve heard and which I haven’t. We latch onto the fact that we’re both fans of Margot & the Nuclear So and So's, so we talk about their style for a little bit. I make an offhand comment about Girl in Red and Stan responds pretty quickly that their stuff is cool. Once I realize I’ve accidentally outed myself in Hicksville, my worry has already dissipated because you really have to be either gay or an ally to listen to them. Thank god.

My eyes scan the cafeteria, and I see the girl getting up, seemingly to throw something away. I must have been looking for too long because Stan turns his head in an effort to decipher what I’m looking at.

He finally spots her. “Oh, that’s Sydney. She listens to Bloodwitch too.”

Sydney.

_Sydney._

_S y d n e y._

And all I can think is that I hope she listens to Girl in Red too.

Either out of luck or doom, Stan calls out to Sydney, and gestures for her to walk over to us. She, begrudgingly, complies. I can’t tell if I want to shrink right now or if I’m excited. Either way, she walks over and sits down next to Stan, setting a carton of iced tea in front of her.

“Hey, Stanley,” she says. I’m hit with the scent of leather and old wood floors and soap. I guess these cafeteria tables are smaller than I thought. She awkwardly looks over at me. I feel like a deer in headlights, caught under her gaze, but I don’t want to lose it.

“Uh, this is Hannah.” I smile at her. “We were just talking about music,”

“Oh,” she smiles back. “Cool,” she nods.

“I just moved here from Chicago,” I say.

“Well, Chicago’s gotta suck less than Brownsville, huh?” Sydney asks.

“I mean, I can’t deny that I miss it.”

“Oh please, you’ll do just fine here,” Stan interjects. “I’ve lived here forever and sure it’s a shithole, but it’s only like a year until we can all graduate.”

“Hopefully I don’t have new-kid syndrome the whole time I’m here,” I joke. I’m trying to seem level-headed, but I’m screaming internally a little bit, given that Sydney is sitting across from me and looking at me and all of that cheesy stuff.

Stan smiles. “You’ll find your people,” he pauses. “Hey, I have work off from the bowling alley tonight, would you wanna listen to music for a little while or something?” He asks me casually.

“Sure,” I reply.

He turns to Sydney, hopefully. I was hoping there was nothing between them, but there certainly seems that there could be. I mean, it’s a possibility. It’s not confirmed, thank god.

She shakes her head. “Can’t. I have to get groceries.” I feel my chest sink in disappointment. I catch a look at Stanley’s appearance and he looks less than pleased too.

He attempts to shrug it off. “That’s fine. Hannah and I will enjoy our Bloodwitch alone.”

“Fine with me,” Sydney smiles. The way her eyes crinkle when she does is enough to make me stifle a grin.

The bell rings and we part ways, picking our bags off the floor, Syd rushing to grab her things from where she was sitting before. I trek down to the math hall for my absolute favorite hour of the day, which is an absolute joke because math can suck a dick.

***

After school, I find Stan in an old yellow car parked in the front of the school lot. I open the car door and get in, swinging my backpack onto the floor. Stan grabs his sunglasses from the center console, smiling, and puts them on like the *cool guy* he is. The car is warm as the sun beams down on the windows and Bloodwitch hums in the car speakers. Stan starts talking on and on about something silly, and I bask in the glow of having a friend. There’s a sense of familiarity that I have when I’m with him, like I could easily be used to his presence. He’s the kind of guy that I could spill my guts to and have no regrets.

He’s like family.

And, like, I just met him, so that’s fucking weird.

No matter how strange my brain makes that out to be, when we pull up to the curb in front of his house, I’m comfortable. Weirdly new surroundings, but isn’t every place that I go like that at this point? Stan pulls his keys out of the car and swings them around his index finger. I sling my backpack over my shoulder as he leads me up the front steps of his house.

When you walk in, the living room is incredibly warm and brown, but it still manages to feel eerily dead. No one is home, but the buck taxidermy in the corner stares me down threateningly. That motherfucker’s already dead, so he can’t fight me. Coward.

Stan escorts me down a flight of stairs where I am immediately hit with the scent of weed. It’s a wood-paneled and wallpapered basement that is straight out of the 70s; same interior design as the upstairs, but seemingly more lively. A record player is on a cabinet adjacent to a brown couch. He immediately walks toward the record player.

“You can sit wherever you’d like,” he says, before squatting down in front of the cabinet, which he opens and shuffles through a variety of vinyl records. I seat myself on the beige printed sofa. Once Stan has set something up on the player that he deems worthy for the evening, he walks over to me and sits down next to me on the couch. As an unfamiliar tune reminiscent of David Bowie plays, he pulls a small box and a lighter out of his pocket. He opens the box, pulls out a pre-rolled joint, and lights it. He passes it to me first, because of course chivalry isn’t dead, and I take a puff. I’d only smoked once back in Chicago, during a random summer birthday party, and I didn’t like it much then. This was much better though. The room wasn’t as sweaty and loud, with glow in the dark necklaces and secrets being passed around the room. This time, I was able to relax, finally letting the weed do its job. This was good.

I hand the joint back to Stan and take in the music as he inhales. I liked the song, but couldn’t figure out the artist.

Stan seemed to notice my slight confusion. “It’s uh— Sports Team. Here’s the Thing.”

I nodded. “It’s good. Reminds me of Bowie.”

He passes the joint back to me. “Please say you like The 1975 too.”

I smile. “Of course I do.”

I took another hit and felt another wave of calmness run through my body. Fuck yes. This is nice.

We listen to music and take hits back and forth, talking about music and homework and god knows what other mundane things, but they always seem more interesting with Stan.

He gets up and changes the record twice, once to get to the B-Side of the Sports Team album, and another to put on The 1975 album with the godfuckinglong name. We get more comfortable on the couch, laying so that we face each other, my feet near his shoulder. Stan only seems to get a little giggly as he starts asking me would-you-rather questions, while I haven’t been this high in over a year, so I am swimming. He lets me go on a rant about Marilyn Monroe and how she was definitely bisexual and waits as I laugh too hard to finish some of my answers.

“Okay, okay, I got a good one. Would you rather be able to pause time or rewind it?”

“Uh—” I take a moment to think. Tough question. Damn. “Hm. Pause. I’d want to pause all of the good moments and stay in them. What about you?”

“Oh, rewind for sure.” He pauses. “I want to know what it feels like to do a cartwheel backwards.”

This comment is apparently comedy fucking gold because I’m immediately sent into a fit of giggles. Amidst this, Stan looks to his pocket, where his phone is buzzing. He takes it out and begins reading the screen.

“Shit,” he says. He gets up and immediately lifts the needle on the player and turns the music off. “Hey, uh— I need to go help Syd with something, and my dad should be home pretty soon.”

Hearing her name is enough to make me feel sober, even if just for a split second.

“It’s okay, it’s getting late anyway,” I reply. “I can still make it to dinner if I start walking now.”

“You don’t want a ride?”

“It’s okay, go get Sydney. I’ll be fine.” I smile.

He nods in response. He jogs up the stairs and I follow, before he runs out the door to his car and I quickly send him a wave goodbye. I quickly realize I have no fucking clue where I am before I decide to make a slow attempt to retrace the way we came from the school. Despite my poor directional skills, I’m back near the school soon enough and I find the house from there.

I come into the house and Mom isn’t in close proximity; she’s probably in her room. Dad is on his laptop in front of the TV, typing away on something for his clients. Thankfully he isn’t close enough to me to smell the weed-filled afternoon I had. I grab a banana before trudging down the hall to my room to get homework done.

And dear god, these feelings are like a cold sore that just won’t fucking _go away_.

I can’t look at my Chem diagrams without remembering her. It’s like her face is etched into my mind, and I’m going fucking insane. It’s just a crush. That’s all it is.

My mind wanders. I wonder what Sydney needed from Stan. I still couldn’t tell if she liked him or not, or if she was maybe gay. I don’t want to entertain the manic guessing game of speculating if she wasn’t straight, but my mind couldn’t help it. She was just so pretty, and she was so nice to me today. I want to know her so badly, inside and out.

The rest of my evening is unproductive from there. I guess my homework can get done on Monday. I remember that there’s a football game tonight. I used to love going to all the games back in Chicago, with our themed spirit nights, dressing in all blue or Hawaiian shirts or something else silly, and I’d eat too much candy and scream way too loud with Nicole and Ally in the stands.

But no, I’m an angsty bitch and I have no one to go with, so I stay home. Once Dad is done with work, I ask him to watch a movie with me. We microwave some popcorn and fill old stadium cups with root beer before turning on Jojo Rabbit, which always fuckin hits.

And you know what? Scarlett Johansson reminds me of her.


	3. Saturdays Are For the Boys

The next morning, I’m awoken by my shitty alarm clock not realizing that it’s Saturday and I don’t even need to be awake yet. After spending an hour listening to music and lazing in bed, I decide that I’m hungry and need to eat immediately. I pad my way down the hall to the kitchen, where I realize that the only food we have at the moment consists of random road trip snacks and more popcorn. Mom and Dad aren’t awake yet, but I know Mom planned on a grocery run that afternoon, so I had to fend for myself. I walk back to my room and get myself dressed into my jeans, a random white graphic tee, and my puffy denim jacket. I tie a satin scarf around my curls before I grab my wallet and leave the house.

The cool autumn air brushes against my face as I stroll down the sidewalk. The sky is gray and cloudy with storm clouds looming in the distance. I navigate my way through the suburban hellscape until I’m in the center of town. Surely there had to be a diner or something in town. I mean, we’d gotten carry-out all week. I walk past a mural of the Brownsville Bridge and an old hardware store when I see a diner with a sign beaming ‘Fiddles’ over its windows.

I swing open the door and am immediately greeted by the bell on the door and small-town warmth. The interior glows amber, and there is wood paneling lining the walls. A black letter board on a metal stand tells me to seat myself, so I find an empty booth to my right, near the front windows. After a minute or two of sitting alone, an older woman in a diner uniform and apron asks me what I’d like to drink. She has tawny dishwater blonde hair that’s in a low ponytail and a friendly demeanor. I ask for a glass of apple juice and she smiles before walking away to get it for me.

The bell on the door jingles again and I see the pretty black girl from my Sex Ed class walk in. She sits down at the booth next to mine, her seat facing me. There’s a plate already at the seat across from her, but nothing where she sits. The woman who waited on me smiles and talks to her for a moment before walking back to the kitchen. Meanwhile, the girl looks down at her phone and begins to type. Someone starts walking from the other side of the diner over to where she’s sitting and oH MY GOD ITS SYDNEY NOVAK.

She’s in a brown sweatshirt and jeans and she strolls up to the girl’s booth which is right in front of me and wow, she is so pretty. She smiles and then sits across from the girl at the seat parallel to mine, so I can’t see her. What are they saying? I don’t want to seem like a creep but I really do want to know. I very unsubtly pick up my wallet and walk around to the other side of the booth, sitting so that Sydney and I are back to back.

The waitress comes back with a glass of apple juice and asks what I’d like to order. I ask for pancakes with scrambled eggs and she writes it down on her pad before walking away. Meanwhile, I’m dying to hear what those two are saying.

“Brad’s really in a lot of pain after that fall. He said he might not go to Ricky’s party tonight.”

There’s a pause. “You were invited to that?”

“I mean, yeah, but I probably won’t go.”

“Why, Dina? So you can sit and babysit Brad all night?” Sydney asks in a sarcastic and biting tone. Dina. Her name was Dina.

The conversation gets a little incoherent from there, up until Dina asks what Sydney had been up to last night.

Sydney talks about how she stopped by the football game. She says something else response but it’s very hushed. However, I can hear Dina’s response as clear as day.

“You fucked Stanley Barber? You fucked Stanley Barber.”

Holy fuck.

So I guess Sydney and Stan were a thing. Shit. Well, I’m happy for both of them but fuck, that hurts. I mean, I just met her and we didn’t really have anything going on, but that doesn’t mean my feelings weren’t strong. Shit. There’s a pit settling in the center of my stomach, this sick feeling that I know isn’t going to go away. It was ten thousand things in one; jealousy, hurt, sadness, confusion, teenage bullshit, all of that. At this point, I just want to go home and sit alone and listen to sad indie rock and feel numb, but I had already ordered breakfast and I’d still be hungry even if I left.

Thankfully, the waitress comes back with my breakfast and I’m able to eat. I force myself not to listen to their conversation and to stare out the window instead. Wow, look at the street, and all of the walls too! Fascinating walls. The pancakes were good, but they stuck to the dryness of my mouth. Time dwindled on. I heard Sydney say about just going with Dina to the party, without Brad. I could do nothing but sit and wish that I’d never heard what happened.

Dina and Sydney eventually stand up. I see Dina hug the waitress and say something about Sydney’s mom being so nice before she leaves. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Sydney standing near the cash register talking with the waitress. I put two and two together and realize that the waitress must be Sydney’s mom. They have similar features, after all.

Sydney’s eyes catch mine from across the room. _Shit._

She walks over to me. “Anyone sitting here?” she asks, awkwardly.

“Nope.”

She slides into the seat across from me and smiles. She’s incredibly ungraceful to the point that it’s actually kind of cute. I’d gotten that much from our previous interaction, but being alone with her highlights just how gawky she can be.

I build up the courage to finally ask what I had wanted to.

“So you and Stan, huh?”

She nods. “I guess.”

I begin to play with my straw wrapper on the table. “You guess?”

“Something felt off about it. Like—” she pauses for a moment. “It felt wrong.”

Wrong? I mean, I get that, any sex that I would ever have with a man would feel wrong, but if she was into guys, it shouldn’t feel wrong.

Oh fuck. “Did you consent and everything or did he—”

She shakes her head. “He was really nice about it, and I always told him yes.”

Thank god.

“Then what felt so wrong?”

She stops again and looks down at the table. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be spilling my guts to you. I barely know you.”

“No, it’s okay,” I reassure her. “I don’t have any friends here anyway.”

I take a deep breath.

“Okay, when you and Stan fucked, did you wish that it wasn’t him?” I ask.

She reluctantly nods.

“Did you wish it wasn’t a guy at all?”

Sydney bites her lower lip. Fuck, I probably crossed a line.

“Listen, I couldn’t imagine having sex with a guy. It’s just not for me, and it doesn’t have to be for you either.”

I see the wheels turning in her brain as she processes what I said.

“What were you thinking about when you were having sex with Stan?”

She takes another moment to think.

“I just wished that I was hanging out with Dina instead.”

Dina.

Of course.

Stan wasn’t the one I had to worry about, it was her. It’s been Dina all along. It made so much sense, the way Syd hung onto her during PE, the way she stared at her during Sex Ed, the way she talked so badly about Dina’s boyfriend. Sydney was gayer than the rainbow and she liked Dina.

And Dina didn’t even like her back.

I shake my head, trying to whisk those thoughts away. Focus on Syd, she’s right here.

“Syd, you know I’m gay, right?”

Her eyes widen a little bit. It didn’t seem like it was at the revelation that I’m gay, but more at the fact that she related to me so much and that I was gay.

“Sexuality is weird, but remember that you don’t have to like guys. If that’s not something you feel, then you don’t have to pretend to.”

She takes a second to think about that, and then nods.

“Hey, did you at least have fun at the football game?”

She smiles softly. “Yeah. It was good. Stan and I, we ate all this junk and we sat and talked shit on all the players.”

I smile back. “That sounds fun.”

“He brought out his phone too and forced me to listen to the Bloodwitch album again while we were sitting there.”

I laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

We make more light conversation until I get up to pay for my food at the register. Surprisingly, Syd walks up there with me. She introduces me to her mom and I make awkward small talk with her. She seems pretty sweet, but a little rough around the edges. Still, she was very kind, asking me when I’d moved in and where my parents worked and the like.

I put my wallet back in my pocket once all of my change was thoroughly stuffed in there.

Sydney turns to me, “Hey, if you weren’t planning on coming to Ricky’s party tonight, I’m sure he wouldn’t care if you crashed it. Dina and I are going, and it’d be great to see you there. Plus, it’d get you out of the house.”

I grin. “I might take you up on that. Thanks.”

She nods. “No problem.”

I walk toward the door and stroll out onto the streets of Brownsville. ‘Thanks.’ Really? What a million-dollar response. She didn’t even invite you, and you thanked her. What the fuck, Hannah?

I mean, if Sydney’s going to go, then I might as well stop by, right? I have nothing better to do, and some good old-fashioned socialization couldn’t hurt.

Holy shit, I’m gonna go to a party.


	4. Hammered, Horny, and the Seven Deadly Sins

The night is setting in as Stanley and I drive to Ricky Barry’s place. Vanilla Skin by Bloodwitch is droning as I look over my appearance in the side-view mirror. My eyeliner isn’t too bad, my dark curls aren’t too frizzy, and my lipgloss has not failed me yet. I glance down at my outfit as we pull into the driveway. I’m wearing a printed satin button-down with high waisted jeans, no surprise, and combat boots. Stan parks the car on the side of the driveway, and we both hop out. I take a deep breath and we make our way into Ricky’s house. As the door swings open, I’m hit with the stench of beer and girls’ perfume. I feel oddly alone at this party, in a sea of people that I don’t know. If only my friends from back in Chicago were here. Guys are walking around with bottles of beer in hand, but I don’t want to have to reach the kitchen to get a drink. Instead, I walk up a set of stairs and make my way to what seems to be the snack table and I see a punch bowl filled with what seems to be lemonade. I pick up the ladle and swirl it around the bowl aimlessly before deciding to fuck it all, I’m going to drink whatever the hell is in this bowl. I pick up a Solo Cup from a stack in the corner of the table and use the ladle to fill my cup.

“Beer, vodka, and lemonade.”

“What?” I turn around to see Sydney. She looks gorgeous. It’s not like she’s dressed up or anything, just in a blue hoodie and jeans, but she’s got on mascara that makes her blue eyes pop and lip balm. She’s so beautiful, I wish I could just kiss her.

“In the cup, it’s uh beer, vodka, and lemonade. You wouldn’t be able to tell by taste, but that shit is strong.”

“How do you know?” I grin.

“Uh, Dina has been to a few of these things before and somehow people always end up getting wasted on it.” Shit. Dina was probably here. All of my time with Syd would be limited.

“I prefer my own poison though,” Syd smirked, pulling a black flask out of her pocket. She tips the top of the flask toward me, and I take it from her hand, setting my cup back on the table.

“Vodka?” I quickly question. She nods, and I unscrew the cap, taking a swig. The vodka burns as it makes its way down my throat, but it doesn’t burn as much as the way Sydney looks over at Dina talking to Bradley does. She gives Dina a glance filled with the most love and attention that she could ever give. Why couldn’t that ever be me? Just once? I screw the cap back on and hand the flask back to Sydney.

“Thanks. Well uh, you should probably get back to Dina then.” Sydney seems to snap back into reality when she hears Dina’s name, turning her head to face me once more.

“It’s fine. Brad just got here a few minutes ago, I don’t want to bother her.” I pick my cup back up off of the table and take a sip. Sydney was right, it tastes just like regular lemonade.

“Oh, sure you don’t,” I scoff.

“What if I like being here with you?”

I pause. She likes being with me? What? Well first of all, why? But second of all, what? She can’t. She’s just reassuring you and trying to make you less friend-jealous. Because that’s all you are. Friend-jealous.

“Look, Syd, I know you. And I know you would follow Dina to the ends of the earth. Don’t feel bad for me, I’m fine.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brad walking away from Dina. I watch as she follows him down the hallway. I turn back to Sydney and watch her face melt as the two sneak into one of the bedrooms.

“Hey, uh why don’t we go outside, get some air?” Sydney turns back to me with a sick look on her face. She nods. I take her hand. It’s soft and warm, and there are small freckles reaching the top of her wrists. I lead her through the house, searching for some sort of exit. We snake our way through the many clumps of guests littering the house and find a back door, leading to a concrete patio with a basketball hoop. My heart drops slightly when Sydney lets my hand go. The ground is slightly damp, but I sit down anyway. Sydney picks up a basketball and begins to bounce it. Her eye gets fixated on something behind me- Stanley in the window. When he sees me, he must figure that Syd and I are hanging out, because he turns away from the window and wanders off back into the party scene.

We spend time outside, just her and me. She shoots the basketball and doesn’t say a word, and I sit and watch her. She dribbles the ball boyishly, the pads of her fingers gripping the ball ever so slightly. Her red hair bounces slightly whenever she takes a step. Thunder rumbles in the background as five minutes turn into ten, into twenty. Occasionally Sydney will make a basket and you’ll hear the thwap of the ball slipping through the net, but you mostly hear the thunk of the ball bouncing and hitting the backboard. Nobody from inside the house comes out and interrupts. No, it’s just me and her, basking in the most dually comfortable and tense silence known to man.

“I don’t know why I wanted to come to this stupid party,” she says, throwing the ball in another attempt to make a shot. She hits the backboard, but the ball bounces right back to her.

“Well it wasn’t for the beer pong, so what else could it be?” Sydney dribbles the ball twice and then shoots again. Another miss. She dribbles once more and begins lining up one more shot.

“I just wanted something normal. A night with Dina where I don’t have to deal with-” Sydney catches herself as the ball sinks through the rim and slips through the net, “with feeling like a freak.”

“We’re never gonna feel normal.” Sydney turns to face me. “The only thing we can do is try to enjoy ourselves. Go find Dina.” I try to give Sydney a grin, but I know it just comes off as a sad smile. Sydney smiles back, a real one, and she nods. She walks past me and opens the door, slipping back into the party. I linger on the patio for much too long.

Why did Sydney have to be so effortlessly beautiful? She’s wearing a hoodie and jeans for god’s sake and she looks like a queen. Why is her skin painted with so many beautiful freckles, why is her hair such a beautiful red, why do I quiver at the thought of her touch?

More importantly, why is it Dina that gets to be the recipient of her adoration? Dina is incredible and gorgeous, and god does she deserve it more than I do but it doesn’t mean that I don’t want it.

Rain begins to sprinkle onto the patio, and I make my way back into the house. Stanley looks dejected, sitting on the couch all alone. I stroll into the kitchen and open the fridge, snagging two beers before finding my way to Stan. I approach him and hand him the cold bottle.

“Is the seat next to you taken or fair game?” Stanley looks to the right of him and wiggles slightly away from it.

“It’s all yours.”

I sit down next to him, and we drink and talk. About homecoming, how he’d been hoping to ask Sydney. How could both of us be hopelessly attracted to her at the same time? I moved the conversation away from Sydney to the supposed drama surrounding Bloodwitch’s drummer and his attempt at a solo album. I wanted to get my mind off of her, and one mention of a band that Stan liked was enough to get him on a tangent that was interesting enough for me to get lost in.

All of a sudden, I’m hit with an overwhelming wave of nausea. I set my beer bottle back on the coffee table in front of me.

“Hannah, you okay?” Stan asks me.

“Yeah, I just— I don’t feel good. I’ll be right back.” I stand up and hurriedly weave my way through the crowd into the hallway, quickly finding a bathroom. The door to the bathroom is right next to the door to the bedroom. I hear the sounds of some couple having very loud sex. And wow, he must be a god among peasants because she is moaning wildly. My mind pathetically wanders to Sydney. I don’t consider myself the horny type, but drunk me surely is. Man, would it be nice to have her alone with me. Our lips clasping each others’ hungrily, her hand grazing my inner thigh, the feeling of her breath between my legs. Fuck, my head is pounding. Maybe she could be my goddess among peasants.

I run to the toilet and crouch down, and as soon as my knees hit the tile, I vomit into the toilet bowl. Fuck me.

My knees shake as I stand up again, haphazardly flushing the toilet and walking out of the bathroom. It’s not like throwing up at a party is embarrassing, but I still don’t really want to face Stan after puking. Instead, I walk down the stairs and make my way out of the house. It’s raining a bit heavier now, but I don’t know anyone else here well enough to ask for a ride. There’s always walking. I mean, what else are legs good for?

I remember the general direction that my house is in comparison to Ricky’s house, so I begin to walk down the street. I wonder what Dina and Sydney were doing in the house. Probably staring at each other like they’re the only people that exist. God, why couldn’t that be me with Sydney, just fucking once? One night where she looks at me like I’m the star that has been hung just for her, one longing grasp for my hand, just one?

It begins to pour hard as I’m left trudging through the rain. I can see my street up ahead, just a block away. Thunder claps loudly in my ears as I begin to jog to the end of the street. I turn onto my street and all I can think of is her. Sydney.

I run faster as the rain soaks my shirt. My boots splash in the puddles left on the street. I turn to face my house and run to the side where my bedroom window is. I stick my finger in the crack of the window and pry it open. I quietly climb through the window into my room, shutting the window as soon as I’m in.

I quickly kick off my boots and change out of my blouse and jeans into pajama pants and a tee-shirt that I had strewn on the floor.

What a fucking night.


	5. Manic Monday, Motherfuckers

On Monday, Stanley swings by my house to pick me up, only this time, Sydney isn’t with him. That’s kind of weird. Even weirder, Stan was mostly quiet for the whole ride to school, only muttering occasionally about whatever song would play on the radio. We pull up to the school in silence, and Stan and I walk into the building together. Just as we make it in the entrance, I start making a pass at conversation with him.

“Hey, I’m sorry I ditched you at the party last night.”

“You’re fine.” Stan doesn’t even turn to face me. He seems so distracted.

“You okay, Stan?”

“Yeah, I’m— I’m fine,” he turns his head to me and stammers. He looks back to the crowd of people and begins searching. Is he looking for someone? Who? I look through the clump of people and spot a corduroy jacket and a mop of red hair— Sydney. Stan’s head snaps back toward me.

“Hey, uh, I’ll catch you in second period,” Stan says to me before jogging to catch up to Sydney. Okay, this is a little weird, right? As Stan begins talking to Sydney, she veers left and walks into the girls’ bathroom, leaving Stan in the hallway. Why aren’t they talking, did they get in a fight?

I walk to the end of the hallway, passing the bathroom and Stan, and I make a right turn to the English hall. I make my way into Mrs. Swensen’s room and find my usual back-of-the-room seat.

First period passes without anything noteworthy occurring. I walk to Mr. File’s room for second period sex ed. Both Syd and Stan would be in there. Maybe we could talk. Sydney is already in her seat as I enter the room, so I take my seat next to her and toss my backpack onto the ground. Sydney is picking at her nails, staring blankly at her desk.

“You okay, Syd?”

Sydney turns to face me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she states, pretending as well as she can that nothing’s bothering her. Though I’ve only known her a week, I know Sydney well enough to see right through.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighs. “Dina isn’t talking to me,” she whispers.

“Why?”

“Uh, something happened and I just— I don’t know, I just need to figure everything out.”

“It’ll work out, Syd.” I give her a soft smile.

The bell rings before she can respond and Stan walks in late. He looks at Syd with an expression of urgency or worry on his face before slinging his backpack on the ground and sitting in his seat. Sydney and I are silent with each other for the rest of the hour. Mr. File starts to describe female anatomy and how it relates to the female orgasm (which, fuck yeah, the curriculum is woke). I begin to blush, reminded of Ricky’s party last night and the thoughts I had right before I puked. I scratch the back of my neck, feeling incredibly flustered (and slightly aroused) and begin to doodle on my desk as a distraction. Little flowers, daisies, all over the glossy wood. They’re shitty daisies, but daisies nonetheless. Little flowers, and swooshes. Waves. Waves with shading. Locks of Sydney’s hair. Before I realize what I’m even doing, I am doodling Sydney’s mop of ginger waves onto the fucking desk. Once I see what I’ve done, I erase it furiously, leaving a black spot where the drawing used to be.

I start to doodle a bumblebee this time. A happy little bee, free of worrying about parties or pretty girls or anything like that at all. I notice Sydney peering over at my bumblebee. I quickly fill in his stripes and then draw a little arrow pointing to his head, labeled ‘Stan’. Sydney stifles a slight chuckle. I reach my hand over to her desk and begin to draw on the surface of hers— two parallel vertical lines and two parallel horizontal lines for tic tac toe. I put an ‘O’ in the middle. Syd smiles, waits a moment as to not get caught, and puts an ‘X’ to the right of it. We continue to play tic tac toe as little two schoolgirls would. I watch her bite her cheek as she plans out her next move, the way she grins when she knows she’s won. We play two more games, carefully planting our moves so that File doesn’t see us, and either he doesn’t see us or he doesn’t care, because we spend the whole hour this way. Just me and her.

The bell rings and I sling my backpack onto my shoulder in preparation for third period. I guess today’s weirdness isn’t really a bad thing.

***

After school, I find Stanley in his car, fiddling with the radio. He’s got his uniform for the bowling alley in the passenger’s seat— he must have work today. I sling my backpack onto the floor of the car and sit in the seat, buckling myself in. Stan says nothing as he turns the keys of the car and pulls out of the parking spot, beginning to drive away.

“Stan, are you okay?”

This catches Stan off-guard. “Yeah. No, I’m— I’m great.” He fakes a smile.

“Are you sure? You and Syd have seemed off today.”

“Oh, uh we’re great. Fantastic, actually.”

“Sydney told me that Dina isn’t talking to her.”

Stan’s face drops slightly. He knows why they aren’t speaking, and he isn’t going to tell me.

“Well, uh— I’m sure things’ll work out.”

We ride in silence the rest of the way, the car trailing past Fiddles, and turning to the road with my mom’s office. I hope her day hasn’t been as weird as mine has. We pass her office and turn onto my street, silently pulling up to the driveway. Stan stops the car and unlocks the doors. Before getting out, I turn to face him.

“This might be really stupid of me to say but you know you can tell me anything, right?” I say to him. Stan gives me a sad smile. There’s something holding him back. “I know I just met you and Syd, but I really care about you two, and I want you to be okay.”

Stan looks down and stares at his hands for a brief moment before looking back up at me. “Thank you, Hannah.”

I smile softly at him. “Of course.”

I grab my backpack and get out of Stan’s car. I walk from the driveway onto the porch, then into my house. I dump my backpack next to the door before pulling out the chem and history homework I had. I set my things onto the counter before picking a cluster of grapes out of the fridge, and then I carry everything to my room.

I finish my history homework in a breeze while eating my grapes; history has always clicked for me. I’m lucky I guess that I don’t find it unbearably boring. Unless it’s a chapter about legislation. That, I couldn’t give a shit about. But the conflict and cause-and-effect made sense to me. Now, it was time for chemistry. I set aside the history book and pick up a sheet about chemical equations. My, what fun.

The afternoon dwindles away as I finish my homework. Once I’m all done, I put away my books and sit back on my bed. I shoot Ally a text.

“ _missing you and the others loads!_ ”

I know she won’t respond, she’s too busy sending in her early apps for her dream colleges. Still, though, I wish that I could hear from her, just so I wouldn’t feel so alone out here in Pennsylvania.

My eyes drift to the three boxes stacked in the corner of stuff I’ve been too lazy to unpack. Can’t hurt to try now, right? I take out the last of my clothes and shove them all into drawers, and I line my CDs up on my bookcase. I plug in my CD player on my bookshelf and put in an old CD mix of 1950s music. Cheesy, right? All of the sappy love tunes that they used to listen to on dates at the Soda Shop are at my fingertips. I break down the boxes and then lay down onto my bed.

Sydney.

I remember the way she smelled like soap and leather and old wood when she leaned over to draw her ‘X’ on my desk. I remember the way her eyes began to light up at the prospect of doing something silly, nothing of deep important meaning, nothing to freak out about. I remember the way she looked at me.

How stupid can I be? She only wants Dina. Just because they’re not talking now doesn’t mean they never will. They’ll be best friends again soon enough, maybe even girlfriends and I’ll just have to learn to deal with it. I can live off of the little things. The little glances, the little bursts of happiness that I see from her on occasion. It’ll hurt to see them so deeply in love but that’s life, right? I mean, nothing ever works out how you want it to and it’s shit in the grand scheme of things, but at least there are those bright little moments. Those things fuel my survival.

She’s really pretty, isn’t she? I mean, she’s just so warm and beautiful and it’s like she sparkles whenever she laughs. I wish I could just see her all the time, and I wish I could just tell her how she makes me feel without getting scared but—

There’s a tapping at my window. OH MY GOD, SYDNEY IS OUTSIDE MY WINDOW. She looks upset, her shoulders tensed and her arms crossed. I quickly get off of my bed, turn off the CD player, and swing the window open.

“Are you okay, Syd?”

“Yeah, I just— I need to clear my head, so I figured I’d come see you.” Sydney thought of me as someone that she could go to? Holy shit, uh, that’s a step in a good direction. I back away from the window and she climbs through. She takes off her Doc Marten oxfords and sits in the middle of my bed. I sit down next to her.

“What’s been bothering you?”

“I uh— I’ve just been feeling like a bit of a freak lately.” She looks down at her skirt. “And I just can’t get anything right, you know?”

I nod. I really fucking know.

“And uh, I—” She hesitates. I shoot her a glance of sympathy so she knows she can open up. “I kissed Dina at Ricky’s party, which she didn’t want, so that felt pretty shitty.”

Shit. She kissed Dina. “I’m— really sorry, Syd.”

“It’s fine, I just— Nothing feels like it’s in my control anymore.” She looks so weighed down with all of this. She’s frustrated and afraid and heartbroken. Shit.

I gaze at her with all of the compassion in the world. I just want her to feel okay.

“These things keep happening, and I can’t stop them and now Dina knows and I just can’t deal with it.”

“What keeps happening, Syd?”

Sydney glances to the door. “Uh, I— you have to promise not to tell anyone. Stan and Dina already know and I just can’t have anybody else knowing.”

I nod. “I promise.” I mean, who the fuck would I tell anyway?

“I— Ever since my dad died, I’ve had this uh— ability where whenever I get really upset or something, my mind can sort of move things.”

“What? You’re fucking with me, right?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Syd, you’ve got to be joking, I mean how the fuck does that even happen?”

“I don’t even know,” she says. At this point, I have no clue how to respond.

“So um— at the party the other night, I kissed Dina and then I got really upset, so I left and started running into the woods. And I stopped for a second and then I—,” she pauses, “ made some of the trees fall down.”

“You made them fall down?”

“I mean yeah, I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Sydney, there is no fucking way that I can even believe that that happened.” Her face falls. Shit. Even though I really don’t believe her, I hate to see her so distraught. “Is there any way that you could prove it to me?”

“Uh, I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, especially if it only works when you’re upset, I get it—”

“No, it’s fine. I just flung a bowling ball at Stan’s head so I can always use those,” she pauses, “emotions.”

My eyes widen. “You what?”

She ignores me. Her eyes flit around the room before she sees my CD player on my bookshelf. Her focus seems to intensify as she stares at it. Something different grows into the mood of her gaze, something darker. She’s focusing on her pain. I wish she didn’t have to feel this way at all.

Suddenly, my CD player is playing music again, One Fine Day by The Chiffons. What the fuck.

I can hear the disc inside the player spinning. The volume starts to increase slowly, louder, louder, and louder until I can barely hear the sound of my own mind blown thoughts, and without warning, the music blasts and my books fly off their shelves onto the ground.

The music sharply decreases to a normal level.

“Holy shit,” I say because it’s the only thing replaying in my head. Sydney is staring at me like she’s dying to know what I’ll say. This is the beast she’s been struggling with this whole time, the thing that’s caused a divide between her and Dina. This is what’s altering her life in a way that nothing else could. I swallow hard. What the fuck am I supposed to even think?

Sydney gets up and starts to pick up the books from my floor. I scramble off the bed to join her. She picks the books up and I put them where they belong. Shitty poetry on the top left, then memoirs and autobiographies next to them. YA fiction on the center shelf. Classic books and plays on the bottom left, and magazines on the bottom right. My hands shake as I put the books in their place. My brain is screaming. Sydney can move things with her mind. She’s like a superhero. What the hell? Sydney’s fingertips touch mine as I take the last book from her hands, and it’s a book of photos of Vivien Leigh. Be calm. I begin to put the book next to the biographies. I catch her looking at it curiously. Stay calm. I take a deep breath and clear my head. She’s just Sydney, your Sydney. And she always will be.

“That’s uh— Vivien Leigh, she was in _Gone With The Wind_ ,” I say, tilting the edge of the book toward her and answering her unspoken question. “It’s really stupid, but I think some of these old movie stars are really cool.”

I rest the book on the edge of the biography section. Turning back to Sydney, She looks at me, almost shocked that I can talk about old Hollywood after seeing her fuck with my bookcase by only using her mind. Her reaction reinforces this idea: she’s just your Sydney, powers or not. Just Syd.

“Hannah, I— I really don’t want you to treat me any differently now that you know,” she says, softly. “I mean, Stanley’s acting like I’m the next member of the X-Men, but I just want to feel normal.”

I look down and grab her hands, taking a deep breath. “Then that’s what we’re gonna do,” I say, looking into her eyes. She gives me the softest, most genuinely thankful glance in return. She isn’t even trying to be perfect, but her eyes are shining and it feels like her heart is radiating energy to me. I just want to soak this entire moment up.


	6. Cut Your Losses

The next day, I feel as though I’ve woken up smiling. Sydney had a huge secret and trusted that I would keep it with her. I quickly get myself ready, with an invigorated feeling to my movements. Mom jeans, a puffy-sleeved top, combat boots, and we’re good to go. When I open my front door, I see her. Sydney is standing in front of my house. Stan’s car is nowhere to be found, so fuck it. I get to walk to school (alone) with Sydney Novak.

Within minutes, we’re giggling about something silly. It’s a beautiful morning, the sky is blue and the sun is radiating beams of warmth and light down to us. The sun kisses Sydney’s cheeks in the most beautiful way. It makes her look like she’s glowing. She adds onto a joke I’d said a second earlier and bursts into laughter again. I laugh along with her, but I also get to see the way her happiness bursts as she chuckles. Her laughter sounds the way birds do when they sing to each other. It’s wonderful to watch her when she’s so happy.

A sudden breath of reality fills me and stops any more joy from filling my spirit.

Sydney probably wishes you were Dina.

You’re just a replacement.

And I am grounded once more. She’ll have Dina back again soon, and you’ll be best buddy number two. Or three, if you count Stan. God, I couldn’t even snag second place. How lame is that?

Sydney looks at me expectantly, like she’s said something. Shit. What did I miss?

“Sorry?” I ask.

“Uh— I just asked if you were uh, feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I reassure her, shaking my head. “I’m just uh— nervous for the chem quiz today. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great. I mean, you study and everything. I can't even manage that.” Sydney replies, awkwardly.

“Yeah.”

And with one statement, our conversation has officially died. RIP.

“Syd, are you gonna try and figure things out with Dina?”

Her face drops. I see her take a deep breath. “I mean, I think so. She probably won’t even talk to me.”

“It’s okay. You’ll get her back.” I give her a sad smile, the same one I’ve thrown her way a thousand times, but each one seems to have a little less bite to it. I’m used to it at this point. Sydney and Dina. They were established before I even moved to town, so I have no right to feel any kind of jealousy. None. Before I know it, we’ve approached the school. Syd and I walk into the brick building, and we grace the halls together. This is nice. It’s like her and I, against the world. Fucking corny, but maybe I like it that way.

Sydney walks to her locker, and I walk with her. All of my books are in my bag, so I have nowhere else to be. She picks up her chemistry book and two notebooks from her locker as I stand by awkwardly. She’s quiet. But this is probably the last time I’ll have her alone before she makes up with Dina, and then they’ll be attached at the hip. Gotta make the most of it while I can. I reach my arm to the side pocket of my backpack and pull out a pack of peppermint gum.

“Hey, do you want any gum? It’s stupid, but I always feel more confident when I have some, and maybe it’ll give you the courage you need to talk to Dina.” Fuck, I’m rambling. Oh well. That’s something Syd does to me now I guess.

She turns back to me and smiles slightly. She’s so pretty when she smiles. “Uh— sure.”

I pull a stick out from the packaging and hesitate before giving it to her. I grab one more and hand them both to her, smiling. “One for later too, in case you don’t see her before lunch.”

She takes them both from me. “Thanks.” She unwraps one piece and shoves it in her mouth, as ungracefully as one person putting gum in their mouth could ever possibly be. It’s almost gross. But cute. God, I am fucking WHIPPED. Meanwhile, I grab a piece for myself and unwrap it, then fold it in half and put it in my mouth. I put the pack back in the side pocket as we start walking down the hall. Mr. File’s chem room is next to the Sex Ed room, which is in the science and math hall, furthest in the school from the English hall, where I have first period. But who gives a shit when you get the opportunity to walk someone to class, right? Especially someone as great as Sydney. We walk, enrobed in such comfortable silence. I want to be with her forever, or as long as I can be at least.

Approaching File’s chemistry room, she stops. We still have a good seven minutes until class starts, so she leans on someone’s locker as she waits, with her arms crossed oh-so-casually. I just stand in front of her and look. Her shoulders begin to tense. She’s got to be nervous about making up with Dina.

“Everything will go fine with Dina.”

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry I didn’t tell you that I can move shit with my mind, please don’t hate me forever’?” she whispers, anxiously annoyed. Sheesh.

“No, just—” I pause. “Just tell her you’re sorry you didn’t tell her sooner and that you’d never do anything to hurt her.”

Her face changes expressions. Her annoyance melts away, into worry.

“I just don’t want to fuck anything else up.”

“You won’t. As long as Dina really loves you as her best friend, there’s no way you can fuck it up.”

Amidst her worry, she manages to glance at me gratefully, just for a moment. The five-minute bell rings. Students begin to filter into their respective classrooms, and a sizable few pass us to enter into File’s room. Sydney stays here though, so I stay with her. I see her eyes begin to follow someone behind me— Dina. She’s with Brad, and the two of them make their way into the room.

“Should I—” she begins to ask me.

“Go,” I say, as I smile. Sydney looks back at me for a second, before she turns and walks into the classroom. Fuck. Now it’s English time, I suppose.

***

At lunch, I sit across the table from Stan. We both bought a cafeteria lunch, with god knows what in there, and we’re sipping iced tea from cartons and discussing our favorite songs by The Regrettes— another band we have in common, apparently. I had seen Sydney enter the lunchroom a few minutes ago before she and Dina had disappeared into the hallway.

“And ‘Dead Wrong’, holy shit, the way it jumps back and forth like that, so good.”

I smile. “So fucking good.”

He smiles back. “Your favorite song is Pumpkin, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, you’re very romantic. You’re a realist, but the rose-colored glasses have to come on every once in a while.”

“Did you just psychoanalyze me?” I scoff.

“Was I not correct?” he replies. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dina briskly walking into the lunchroom, back toward her table. Her face is blank. She looks like she’s numb. Shit, where’s Syd?

“Shit, uh— Stan, I’ll be right back.” I stand up and walk out of the cafeteria, leaving my lunch and backpack behind. I walk to the hallway where they were talking; it’s completely empty. The bathroom. Where the fuck were the bathrooms around here? Come on, Westinghouse Memorial, get it together. I look to the right side of the hallway, and I see a stretch of lockers about twenty feet long that are all open, with papers lying on the ground. Fuck. I follow the trail and see the art hall up ahead, with a bathroom on the corner. I jog toward it and push open the door. I turn toward the stalls and see no feet peeking beneath any of the doors. However, one door is closed. I hear the faintest sound of quiet breathing.

“Syd, it’s uh— it’s Hannah.”

No response is made, only the echo of my voice rings through the room.

“I might just be talking to walls here, but I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Nothing back, still.

“I saw Dina walk back into the cafeteria without you and I got worried.”

I hear a dull sniffle. Whatever Dina said, Sydney’s got to be upset about it.

Suddenly, I hear the faint click of the metal lock on the bathroom stall door opening. The door swings open and hits the sidewall. I slowly walk toward the stall. Sydney sits on top of the toilet facing the sidewall, her knees hugged to her chest. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye for a second before staring back at the wall. Her eyes are watery and her lower lip trembles slightly. Fuck.

“Dina said that she doesn’t want to be friends with someone she’s scared of,” Sydney swallows, “and that she doesn’t feel safe with me.”

“Syd—”

“I just don’t know how to undo this. I wanna un-fuck it up, and I’m sick of it,” she chokes out through a teary voice. But only a single tear rolls down her cheek, glistening in the shitty fluorescent lighting. I sit down onto the tile of the bathroom floor. It’s probably disgusting, and I’m in my favorite mom jeans, but I don’t care.

“I’m really sorry,” I say because I don’t know how else to comfort the girl before me.

She turns her head to look at me. “I don’t know what to do without her.”

As her heart breaks before me, mine breaks with it. I just want to see her happy. If Dina makes her happy, then let her be with Dina, but why the fuck doesn’t Dina want her? Why wouldn’t she? I need to distract Sydney, get her mind off of this shitty girl being a shitty friend. An idea forms in my brain.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say to her.

She pauses for a moment and then nods. She grips the toilet seat and swings her legs to the front to stand up. We begin walking to the bathroom door. Soon enough, my hand is gripping the door handle.

“Should we bring Stan?”

Her brows furrow. “Why?”

“Weed. And the car.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

So we walk together back down the main hall to the cafeteria. The image of the open lockers burns itself into my brain. Poor Syd. Walking through the doors, I see Sydney stop as her frightened eyes lock on Dina. I gently caress her wrist with my fingers in an effort to calm her. Her gaze snaps down to my hand on hers, and her anxiety slows. Quickly, I walk over to Stan. Sydney follows.

I grab my backpack from my spot at the lunch table and swing it over my shoulder. Stan looks up at me with a questioning gaze as I put the other strap on. “We’re ditching.” I use my head to gesture to my right. “Let’s go.”

Stan scrambles to get his lunch thrown away and his backpack on, and before we know it, I’ve already whispered the whole story to Stan in his car, and we’re in Stanley Barber’s basement, smoking joints and listening to some mellow indie rock band on vinyl. Stan in laying on the couch, while Sydney sits on the floor and I have somehow managed to sit gayer than the gay-iest gay in an old leather recliner. I chuckle to myself at the idea of that phrase. The gay-iest gay. Like I’m the Lucky Charms leprechaun or something. But no, I’m just a boring femme lesbian getting high with a soft indie boy and a pretty girl.

“What are you all giggly about?” Stan asks, looking over at me.

I turn to him. “I’m a lesbian,” I say, giggly. “I don’t even like boys.”

“Oh,” Stan says, with his constant relaxed grin. “Cool.”

Sydney however, looks slightly uncomfortable all of the sudden. I mean, she was clearly queer too, with the whole feelings-for-Dina thing, but I still couldn’t tell why the discomfort. She takes another hit off her joint and her tension seems to slip away a little bit. Good for her.

“Hey Stan, did I ever tell you how great I think you are?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” he replies.

“Well, I think that you’re the coolest. And I think it’s really nice that you let me be your friend when I moved here, even though you already had such wonderful friends.”

He smiles. “Well thank you, Hannah.”

“And Sydney—” I begin. Her gaze snaps to me. “I think you are one of the greatest people alive. Even with the whole X-Men thing, you’re still super sweet and super awesome and super—” shit. I was about to say pretty. “Uh— nice.” Fuck fuck fuck. You are so STUPID. What an idiotic thing to say. Man, fuck my brain. And weed. Weed brain.

Instead of the disgusted reaction I expect her to have, her face lights up in a small smile. “Well thanks, Han.”

The day drifts into night, and we take a break from smoking, to clear the air a bit (and hopefully, to keep me from saying any more stupid shit to Sydney). I toss Stan a ten-dollar bill I had gotten over the weekend for chores and tell him to pick up a two-liter of Sprite and a family size bag of barbecue chips from J & K Plus, and demand change back (unless he wants gas money, in which case, he can take it). A vinyl is left playing in the background once he leaves the house and Sydney and I are left together in a quiet basement.

My first high is still wearing off, so I’m left staring at the wood paneling on the wall for a few minutes before I hear Sydney sniffle.

“Syd, what’s wrong?” I ask. She doesn’t even need to respond and I already know; it’s Dina.

“I just—” she looks down at her lap, her eyes watering. “She was my best friend. And when I kissed her, I—”

She stops, like she’s stupid or silly, or that I wouldn’t get it, but I know exactly what she means.

“I wanted her more than that.”

I get up out of my chair and move to sit down next to her on the carpet. “It’s okay to feel like that. Like you love her, it’s not wrong.”

I take a weighted pause before looking over at her. Even with tears rolling down her cheeks, she’s beautiful.

“And I know emotions are stupid and pointless a lot of the time, and they hurt really fucking bad but it’s okay. And it might seem like Dina is the best girl in the world, but you’ll find someone and they’ll make you happier than a thousand Dinas ever could. I promise.”

Silence hangs in the air after my words pass through my lips.

I want to cuddle her really badly, and just make her feel like all is right in the world, but it’s very likely that she would really hate that, so instead, I just look at her, with a soft and caring gaze, hopefully reminding her of all of the love she has surrounding her already.

I hear the front door swing open upstairs, but Sydney’s already begun looking back at me at this point, so I don’t dare break my gaze. I hear the front door close and the basement door open before I hear Stan, trodding down the stairs.

“Somehow, they were all out of Sprite, but I got 7-Up instead.” Sydney wipes her cheeks quickly before she turns her head toward him. I follow suit, looking up at Stanley. “And, I only took three bucks for gas, so…”

Stanley places the J & K Plus bag on the coffee table, along with a receipt and about two-twenty in change. Stan walks back over to the record player to change out the vinyl to some different indie band as I crawl over to the bag, taking out the chips and opening them right away. They smelled so fucking good. I take one from the bag and begin to eat, while Sydney opens up the pop. She gives me a concerned glance for a moment.

“Just drink it from the bottle, who cares?” I respond.

Stan walks back over to us with three more joints —we’re being treated tonight, folks— and lights them one at a time, passing one to Syd, then me, then keeping one. Before he takes his first puff, he looks at us two and places the tip of his joint in the middle of us.

“Cheers,” he says, “to the worst day ever.”

Sydney and I bring our joints forward to almost touch Stan’s. “To the worst day ever.”


	7. Nerves or Nothing

Wednesday passes, and nothing worthy of note happens. Stan drives Syd and me to school. As I sit in the back of his car, I watch the golden morning shine on Sydney’s face and I can’t help but find myself incredibly lucky to spend my time with her. During Sex Ed, we trade draw portraits of Mr. File on our desks and try to hide our snickering. Dina spends PE glaring at Syd and me as we jog around the track, making Sydney look uneasy. I spend my time in the locker room reassuring her after Dina storms out, Brad’s jacket draped on her shoulders. Syd doesn’t want to do much after school, so Stan parks us on some barren road and blasts The Mountain Goats while he smokes. I can tell Syd is trying to let herself go, asking to take a hit of Stan’s joint more than usual. I just sit in the back seat and wish that there’s something I could do. Stan drops me off at home first, and I wish I could have heard their conversation while I wasn’t there.

Then Thursday comes. Homecoming is tomorrow and I wish I had the courage to ask Syd to be my date or even go with me as friends, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, especially if she’d been hoping to go with Dina. I’m not going to be a rebound.

Syd’s in a pissy mood the whole day. Stan had apparently asked her to homecoming after he dropped me off, and she had said yes. However, it looked like she regretted it now. As I sat down for lunch, she’s snapping at Stan about how she’s fine with him finding another date. Stan then gets up and walks over to a different table, to talk to a girl that’s in our Sex Ed class. Syd ignores Stan and me for the rest of the day, and she walks home without us. Needless to say, that drive with Stan after school is hopelessly awkward. He plays sad indie rock the whole drive and seems pensively disappointed about homecoming.

But Friday’s when it gets good, because Friday is homecoming, and all of a sudden Sydney Novak is the most chipper person to walk planet Earth. She turns up in front of my house ten minutes earlier than usual, the sun pink in the sky as it rises. She was like a different person. As we walked together, she breezed down the sidewalk, blushingly making stupid jokes. Her in a pink 80s tee shirt and high-waisted jeans like a Molly Ringwald fantasy. Our conversation lulls, and this is it. My perfect chance to ask her to homecoming. God this could be incredible, I mean spending this much time alone with Syd, and then tonight in a romantic setting? Oh my god—

“So um— I found out that my dad had the same problems that I do,” she says, awkwardly fumbling for the right words to say.

So wait, like the emotional stuff? Or the powers? Oh, it’s probably the powers. I mean, if fucking superheroes exist in this hellscape, there’s got to be more than one.

“Oh, uh— that’s cool,” I reply. Shit. “Uh—not cool, I mean that’s—”

“Less lonely at least,” she responds. I look down at her expression. She’s happy. Slightly somber, but happy. I wish she didn’t have to deal with this so alone.

“Well hey, even though I’m not a superhero, I’m always here if you need anything,” I take a breath, “and you know how much I care about you.”

“Thanks,” she replies. She gives me a grateful smile. Her whole essence is beaming right in front of me; she’s shining out at me. She’s so captivating. God, am I gay.

We walk in one of our beautiful silences. The air is clear and the morning is quiet and I can’t help but feel so alive with her next to me. Okay, I can do it. I can ask her to homecoming. This is my shot. I can do it. I just need to ask her. It’s just a question. A silly question. God, what if she says no? I can’t handle rejection, not from Sydney. God, Sydney. She’s right next to me and makes my heart ache. I want to ask her, but there’s something holding me back that I just can’t break. It’s like I’m being overprotective of myself. She has the most beautiful energy, of lemon cookies and sunlight and dewy grass and fireworks and summer bonfires where everyone is drunk and smiley and where someone that you love gazes at you for just a moment too long. My chest is bursting but I just can’t ask her. I’m too scared.

And we’re walking into the school building now, so all of our privacy is lost. A big fuck you to romance, I guess. I guess the lesbian panic and yearning has gotten into me too much at this point. I could do it later. Or even ask her next year and just not go. Or I’ll ask her never, which is the best option because there’s no way to get hurt. I mean, there’s always the traditional reading-too-much-into-everything phase but there was no way in hell she liked me. We’re not going to get self-deprecating but Jesus, have you looked at me lately? And she’s Sydney, I mean, she could never.

I silently walk her to the Chemistry room. Dina passes us in the hall and Sydney gazes at her for only a moment before looking back at me. I smile. Her gaze makes me feel so warm, like I’m under her own personal spotlight. Today we don’t need to talk, because she’s happy. We just bask in her happiness like we’d bask in the sunlight on a summer afternoon. A pit arrives at the bottom of my stomach. She’s just your friend. She’d never see you that way. She could never love you.

My face must’ve changed quite a bit because the next thing I know, Syd’s face is scrunched in concern and she’s asking me what’s wrong.

“I’m fine.” I fake a smile but she knows what I’m doing. She looks down and grabs my hand to hold it, and my heart is doing backflips inside my chest.

“You can tell me anything,” she sighs. “You’re a great person and I—” she pauses, “I care about you a lot.”

I smile without even forcing myself to. I’m soaring. “Thanks.”

The five-minute bell rings and Sydney lets go of my hand to walk into class. I feel my heart rate return to normal. Shit. I have to make it to English.

***

At lunch, I can’t eat. And it’s all because of Sydney fucking Novak. I’m too scared to ask her to a stupid dance that my whole body feels frozen and sick.

Sydney sits across from me at the lunch table. She has an apple, chocolate milk, and a couple cartons of Nerds. She bites into her apple, and I just stare blankly across the cafeteria.

“Hannah, are you okay?”

My head snaps back to face her. “Yeah.” I cross my arms, my shoulders feeling tense. I just want to shrink right up into my denim jacket and melt away.

Either Syd has no clue that I’m freaking out or has elected to pretend otherwise, in which case I am eternally grateful. I go back to spacing out. Fuck, I wish I could just ask her. She’s just so incredible and soft and warm and she’s somehow tough and ethereal at the same time and I just wish that I could have this night with her.

I look back at her and she’s peacefully looking away. I’m so glad she’s happier today, she deserves this. Suddenly, she looks back at me and our eyes lock. I want to hold her gaze forever. It breaks with her looking down, giving the sweetest little smile. She looks back up at me

“Do you want any Nerds?” she asks. I look at the tiny cartons. Grape, strawberry, and lemonade wild cherry.

“Sure,” I reply, smiling. I take the strawberry ones. She takes the other two back, and immediately opens the lemonade ones and dumps them all in her mouth like she’s taking a shot. I giggle and do the same. I suppose Nerds are a valid substitute for liquid courage.

***

P.E. comes, our last class of the day, and it’s my last chance to ask Sydney to homecoming. Before class, I quickly change into the uniform —a gray sweatshirt and running shorts— and pull my dark curls into a ponytail. I head out to the bleachers and I see Syd sitting there already, staring out into the field. I sit down next to her. Dina is behind both of us, silently wrapped in Brad’s arms, but Syd doesn’t seem to care. I assume with that kind of heartbreak, she’d still be devastated, but it seemed as though she was growing resigned to it.

Class begins and we run again, prepping for the mile we’re running next Tuesday. Today is different though because Sydney is running. Usually, she walks, but today she’s running, so I run beside her. It’s amazing. It’s so freeing. It’s not too warm outside, but I feel Sydney’s body heat combine with mine as we run. Of course, no one enjoys running, so it felt like hell after about the first two minutes, but it wasn’t so bad as long as she was with me.

We chat once we’re done running, the usual banter-y nonsense. She gives a smiling response to something I say, leaving the conversation hanging in the cool autumn air.

I take a deep breath, trying to look as casual as I can. This is it. You can do it.

“Hey, Syd?”

Her head turns to me. “Yeah?”

My heart is beating so fast. Shit. “Do you want to go to homecoming?” I ask, trying to smile.

She thinks for a moment, then turns her whole body toward me. “Why not. Fuck it,” she smiles.

The bell rings and class is done. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m grinning ear-to-ear, like some sort of godawful Cheshire cat lookalike. Perfect. Holy shit. Perfect.

“Uhm— Great. I’ll pick you up at like six forty-five, and we can walk to the dance.”

Her face suddenly changes. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

My eyes widen. “Oh, of course not! I mean, I will, but like you don’t have to. I just want to look nice.”

“So I won’t look nice if I’m not in a dress?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Oh, god no. I just meant—”

She smiles. “I’m fucking with you. Six forty-five. You in a dress, me in whatever. I’ll be there.”

She walks toward the locker room. How was that so smooth? She’s so awkward and yet she just sounded like a flirty teen boy in a John Hughes movie. Wait, was she flirting with me? No, she couldn’t be. We’re just going as friends, right? Even though I wish we weren’t, that’s all this is. She could never see me in that way.

Holy fuck, we’re going to homecoming.


	8. Dancing in the Moonlight

Syd goes down to Fiddle’s after school, I assume to catch up with her mom. Meanwhile, I’m practically skipping the whole way home. Holy fuck, I’m taking Sydney Novak to homecoming.

I rush into the house and discard my backpack on the floor. Before I start to get ready for homecoming, I search for some sort of food that I can eat as a replacement for dinner. I grab eggs out of the fridge and I make scrambled eggs for myself because it’s one of the only things that I can cook. That and pasta, but we were out of marinara. As I pour the eggs from my pan onto my plate, I spot a white confections box with my name on the lid sitting on the counter. Curious, I open the box. It was butter toffee from The Fudge Pot back in Chicago. My favorite chocolate from my favorite candy store. My heart immediately filled with joy. I knew that Mom and Dad wouldn’t get home for another three hours, but I knew that I needed to thank them as soon as possible. I texted the two of them a photo of the box and typed out a “ _thank you both so much!!! love you ♡_ ” to them.

After eating my eggs, I broke off a section of the toffee and ate it. So fucking good. It tastes just how it did when we lived back in Chicago. I miss it a lot, but I wouldn’t move back for anything in the world. I had Syd, and she had me.

But just as friends, right?

I padded down the hall to my room so I could start getting ready for homecoming. I had gotten a homecoming dress from a dress shop in Chicago, back when I thought I would still go to homecoming with all of my friends out there. And even through the moving process, the dress still looked beautiful as ever. It was a dark blue velvet skater dress. It had a deep v-neck and these gorgeous bell sleeves. Ally had loved it when I tried it on, and when I saw it in the mirror, I had known right then that it was perfect. It’s corny, talking about a dress so dramatically, but I think I can have a moment every once in a while.

I pull my hair back with a scrunchie and turn my CD player on, switching the disc to some 80s stuff; just classic Madonna and Queen and all of that good nonsense. I sit on the floor in front of my mirror and begin putting my makeup on. I can’t believe that this is actually gonna happen. Sydney is taking me to homecoming. Holy fuck.

Before I know it, my makeup is done. I guess I was just too wrapped up in a confusing mixture of excitement and nervousness to even notice. My eyebrows were filled in, I had eyeliner and mascara framing my eyes, and the high points of my face were accented with a frosty white highlighter, making me look dewy. Of course, I had finished everything off with shimmering lip gloss, but you don’t really care about that, do you? I walk down the hall to the bathroom, where I spray my face with setting spray and begin playing with my hair. All I do is take out the scrunchie and spritz it with some curl-refreshing spray, using some hairspray to smooth flyaways. Everything else is ready.

I walk back to my room and finally slip my dress on. Looking at it in the mirror, it’s perfect. Completely perfect.

I walk back down to the bathroom to put in my earrings- three crystal starbursts dangling off of their posts, with tiny hoops connecting them. I had fallen in love with them when I saw them in the store, and I knew that they would match the dress perfectly. After struggling to get them in, I went back to my room to put my shoes on- a pair of strappy silver heels that were short enough to walk in, but tall enough that my legs didn’t look stubby.

I spray a bit of vanilla coconut perfume onto my wrists and behind my ears. If I was going to potentially slow dance with Sydney, I needed to smell like a goddess. I sprayed a little bit extra on my collarbones, just for good measure. I checked my phone and somehow, it was already 6:30. I took a photo of myself in my bedroom mirror and texted it to Ally, saying, “ _hoco tonight. miss you_!!”

As I walked back into my living room, I saw my parents sitting on the couch. They smiled up at me once they saw me.

“How do I look?” I ask my mom.

“Incredible,” she smiles.

The three of us walk out to the backyard to take the typical going-to-homecoming photos. I stand in front of a tree in our yard and make cheesy poses, smiling for my Dad’s camera and my mom’s phone.

Soon enough, we’re back in the house. I notice a notification on my phone, a text from Ally.

“ _you look amazing!!!! the girls are gonna be all over you tonight ;)_ ”

I smile, I guess she hadn’t forgotten about me after all. I run to my room to grab my wallet and lipgloss right before the doorbell rings. I quickly shuffle to the door, opening it to find Sydney.

_Sydney._

Holy fuck.

She’s in a strappy pale blue sheath dress with shimmery brocade designs all over the fabric. She’s wearing what I assume are her father’s dog tags with it. She seems to have put makeup on too, some dark eyeshadow with eyeliner and mascara. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world. I have never wanted to kiss someone more than I want to kiss Sydney Novak at this moment.

I’m grinning ear to ear. “You ready?” I ask.

She nods. “Ready as ever.”

I call out a goodbye to my parents, and her and I start down my street toward the school. The evening is warm and wonderful and it’s glowing just as much as she is.

“You look great, by the way,” Syd says to me. I blush, feeling my cheeks burn. I hope she can’t tell.

“Thanks. You too,” I pause. “I thought you weren’t gonna wear a dress.”

She smiles, “I wanted to look nice.”

“You don’t have to wear a dress for that, you always do,” I reply. Fuck, was that a mistake? Does she know I like her now? Shit, shit, shit. It’s all over.

“Thanks,” she says, grinning. Okay, maybe that wasn’t as bad as I thought.

We make it inside the school, to the gym. The walls are covered in white string lights, and there are stars hung all over the walls. There’s a little photo section, with a moon, and shit, Syd’s gazing out at everything in awe like a child in front of a Christmas tree and I just want to look at her forever. Her head turns to look back at me and the sincerity and compassion in that gaze and the smile that she gave me are two of the things I keep closest to my heart.

The rest of the night lives as a film reel in my memory. Everyone is sweaty and the air is humid and my feet started to ache only minutes after we started dancing. But once Stan offered to hold my shoes while I danced with Syd (and winked at me very conspicuously), things started to look up. Being the awkward lesbians we are, neither of us knows how to dance, but we don’t care either. We jump to the beat of different loud songs and scream the lyrics until our throats are burning. We do the traditional awkward dance moves, including but not limited to the sprinkler, the boogie, the pony, the swim, and lots and lots of gay peace signs. Without fail, a few popular rap songs come on, which aren’t really Syd’s jam or mine, so we take that time to take a bunch of stupid polaroids at the photo booth. We pretend to be astronauts on the moon, we do the awkward prom pose, and of course, we take one that is all too sincere, of us sitting on the little moon with my head on her shoulder. The spot that my head rested in the crook of her neck felt like the place I was meant to be. Though her skin was a little sweaty, she was warm, and her touch filled me with an indescribable energy. I smiled as the camera flashed, and life had never been brighter than at that moment.

I tuck my polaroids into my pockets, which of fucking course this dress has (I might not have bought it otherwise). We go to grab some punch from one of the tables and when we finally go back to dance, it’s like the stars have aligned and they either hate or love me. Of course, a cheesy love song just had to come on at that moment, and not even a current one. No, this DJ couldn’t have even played some Ed Sheeran bullshit with extremely hetero lyrics, he just HAD to play Stand By Me, one of my favorite 1950s ballads with completely ambiguous lyrics, and therefore had become my vintage lesbian anthem.

As we find a place on the dance floor, my hands find her shoulders, and I feel her grasp my waist. Her hands fit there perfectly, so they rest there as we dance. We sway to the gentle beat, our eyes not leaving each others’ once. This. I could do this forever.

She is the most wonderful girl on this planet. I can’t believe that moving to this random dirt-town in Pennsylvania led to meeting the most perfect girl to exist. Seeing her face so close like this, I notice the way her eyes seem to shine, the way she smiles through them. Freckles dot her nose and cheeks and spread down to her shoulders ever so delicately.

“Thanks for convincing me to come to this thing,” Sydney says to me, smiling. “It uh— usually isn’t my scene, but tonight has been good.”

I grin back at her. “I’m glad you came.”

The song is past the orchestral section, so it would end soon, but I keep my eyes locked on Syd. I don’t want this to end. I go back to staring at every one of her features. I want to sit here and count out all of her freckles just so I can name them all after greek gods and goddesses. And then my eyes grow fixated on her lips. Pink and round and soft. They look so perfect, just like the rest of her. I want to know just what it feels like for her lips to press against mine.

I notice that she’s started to lean in closer to me, so I move forward a bit too. We’re inching closer and closer to each other. The way she looks down at my lips makes my stomach flip, my knees weak. I can feel her warm breath as it grazes my skin. I want to show her how I love her.

And then, the music abruptly changes to something loud from the Bloodwitch album, and Sydney’s focus is no longer on me. Goddamnit Stanley Barber, this was not the time. My hands, which had made their way around Sydney’s neck, moved back to my sides. I felt the comfort leave my body when her hands left my waist.

“I’m gonna go get some water,” I say. She nods, and I briskly walk back to the corner of the gym with the giant Gatorade-brand jugs and clear plastic cups. I notice my hands shake as I pick up a cup. I almost kissed Sydney Novak. What the actual fuck. Did she want it? Was she leaning in too, or was that just my imagination? God, my thoughts could run away just thinking about that moment forever. I use the little lever on the jug to fill my cup with water. Were we still here just as friends? Did she actually like me? She couldn’t. There’s no fucking way. Girls don’t like me. No one has ever reciprocated my romantic feelings for them, so why would Sydney?

My eyes search the gym for her. She’s sitting with Stan on the bleachers. They’re softly giggling about something. I’m glad that they’ve managed to make up. Meanwhile, Dina is now next to me, having made it to the front of the water-line. She looks impossibly pretty, in a pink dress with rose gold sequin detailing.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to make things too awkward. “How’s your night been going?”

She looks up at me. “Good,” she pauses. “Listen, I know you’re close with Syd, but I don’t want that to make things weird for us. You seem pretty cool, and I’m glad she has someone to be with her,” she pauses again. “It just couldn’t be me.”

“Why not?” I ask.

She scoffs. “There’s a lot of shit going on with me, and I— I really don’t want to do the toxic codependent thing,” she says, finally finding the right words.

“Well, I’m—” I get distracted when one of her cheerleader friends comes up behind her. I think her name was Grace or something like that.

“Dina, Bailey just told me that she caught Jenny Tuffield topless with Brad at Ricky’s party,”

Dina turns around to face her. I can’t see her reaction, but I imagine that she’s angry, or devastated, or both. She stands, frozen for a moment before hurrying out of the exit doors closest to us. Well fuck.

I look back to Sydney, who is still sitting on the bleachers with Stan. Dina had made it clear that she didn’t want to be Syd’s friend again, that she had passed that torch on to me. I feel bad for Dina because holy shit she was cheated on, but Grace seems to have her covered. All I can really do is keep Sydney company.

I walk back to Syd as the music quiets and the microphone screeches and Mr. File is making an announcement about the homecoming court. They’re two seniors that I don’t know well, but I think I’ve seen the girl in my Math class. I look at Syd as she watches the boy give a stupid speech onstage, clearly not giving two fucks about these results. She looks back at me and smiles. Soon enough, I’m smiling too. The microphone squeaks as the boy puts the mic back on the stand, and the music returns to its usual volume.

The dance is practically over at this point. The DJ plays Dancing In The Moonlight by Toploader because hey, even if this guy’s music taste isn’t current, at least it’s good, right? Syd stands awkwardly on the dance floor while I walk over to Stan and drag him by the hand back to where Syd is standing, leaving my shoes on the bleachers. I begin to step-touch along to the beat, snapping as I go. The other two join in with their own awkward dance moves. Soon enough, I’m dancing like a hippie, Stan’s dancing like my uncle at every family wedding, and Syd’s dancing like she’s straight off the set of Saturday Night Fever. I begin to sing out the lyrics loudly and they join me. This is magic. Just us three, a perfect trio, dancing together at a cheesy high school dance. I never thought I’d find friends like this so quickly in Brownsville, but I don’t regret it even for a second. This was something I could never have found out in Chicago, these two were unique to good ol’ PA. Maybe moving here wasn’t so shitty after all.

The song ends and we’re all out of breath. The principal announces over the mic that the dance is over. Stan says that he should drive Mercedes, his date, home, leaving Syd and me alone again. We walk over to the bleachers so I can put my shoes back on.

Syd smiles up at me. “Can I walk you home?”

I grin back. “Of course.”

The air is cool as we walk into the autumn night. It’s dark out, but street lights light the way to my house. Usually, the dark is scary, with mysterious threats around every corner, but tonight it isn’t. Tonight the dark is a glowing sea filled with the street lights as glowing stars. And Sydney, well she’s the center of it all. She radiates beauty as the moonlight touches her skin. Her freckles grow more prominent in the cool light of it all. It’s so dark, but I have her features memorized like the lyrics to my favorite song. I can feel her smile as it makes my heart beat faster. Her body heat next to me brings warmth to my skin. And though I long to slip my fingers between hers, the brushing of our hands as we walk serves as a fine replacement.

As we approach my house, I don’t want to leave her side. I could walk with her forever, going wherever we’d like and doing whatever we please. But my parents want me in the house by eleven, so I prepare myself to let go of my evening with her. We’re in front of it now, but I turn to stand in front of her.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I say, smiling.

“Of course,” she grins back. “It was really fun.” We gaze into each other’s eyes for just a second too long and I feel my heart begin to flutter again. I savor the moment while it lasts. I turn to go into my house when I feel her hand grab mine. I look back at her and before I know it, her arms are around the back of my head, pulling my face down to kiss me.

_She’s kissing me._

And holy shit is it everything I’ve ever wanted.

The butterflies erupt in my stomach, turning into a warmth that spreads throughout my chest. I bring my hands to her cheeks, and this is the most beautiful moment of my life, I never want to let this go. Her lips are soft and warm and she tastes like peppermint chapstick and fruit punch. My head is spinning, this can’t be real, Sydney Novak is kissing me.

But of course, humans will die if deprived of oxygen, the true killer of romance, so I have to break away for breath. She’s looking up at me with the most loving gaze, and I feel a blush spread from my cheeks to my ears. I could have died right there and then.


	9. Just as Long as You Stand By Me

The light of my alarm clock glows a cool “12:00” onto my wall, signifying that deep midnight has arrived. My satin pajama shorts expose my legs to the cool air, keeping me awake, though I know I should be sleeping. The whole house is silent. Nobody stirs when a faint tapping occurs at my window. I smile to myself, knowing exactly who it is. 

I grab my things off of my nightstand— my polaroid camera and my dad’s old Discman with a mixed CD that I made for Syd and me.

Sydney.

I throw a large white sweater over my pajama top and slip my feet into a fuzzy pair of slippers before quietly prying open my window. Sydney’s visage glows in the moonlight, her skin the color of fresh cream. Before she can say a word, I reach through the open window and kiss her. My heart bursts with warmth, quite the shock to my chilly thighs, which get covered in goosebumps. The moment is still and quiet and blissful. She pulls back for a breath, and a smile creeps over her face.

“You ready?” she asks.

I smile back. “As ever.”

She steps back and I climb out of the window. My camera is heavy, dangling from my wrist, but it gives me a free hand to grasp Sydney’s with. I put one earbud in and so does she, and she holds the disc player as we begin walking down the street. As the first song begins, I get a good look at Sydney. She’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms, her brown corduroy jacket, and the pink Marilyn Monroe graphic tee I left at her house last week. She can keep it, she looks better in it than I ever did. Seeing her wearing my clothes makes me want to kiss her again, but I wait. On the off chance that someone sees us, we likely wouldn’t receive any kindness. No matter though, teenage lesbians always have been and always will be hated by the rest of society. It’s because we’re happier than everyone else. 

This November night is beautifully silent as Syd and I make it to the hill. Ever since we’ve been together, this has become our “place”. Deep in the night of shithole Pennsylvania, it was a place we could escape to where the moon was bright and all of the stars shone their faces just for us. 

Being with Sydney was a joy I’d never experienced before. I’m so comfortable around her, but yet she always keeps me on my toes somehow. With her quick wit and silliness, we’ve spent hours giggling about god knows what. She’s been there to support me if I feel out of place or upset, and she’s always ready to listen. She’s taken some time opening up to me, bit by bit about her dad and her powers and what she’s been going through, and I give whatever support I can. I can’t imagine how shitty that’s all gotta feel, so I give her all of the love and comfort that I’ve got. And we’re always ready for the next adventure, to run off behind any old building in town just so we can embrace and give each other warm kisses.

We both lie down on the cool, dry grass, feeling the prickle on our backs while we look up at the stars. Of course, it’s ridiculously corny and stupid, but when it’s with her, it’s like all of the clichés make sense. It’s not cheesy, it’s romantic and beautiful and so so so so sapphic. And I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. Staring up at the magnificent stars above me, I’m filled with the same sense of wonder that I feel when I’m with her.

“That one is uh— Canopus. It’s named after Menelaus’ navigator in the Odyssey,” Sydney says, her words breaking my concentration.

I smile. “How did you know that?”

I don’t look over at her, but I can tell that she’s blushing furiously— one of the wonderful benefits of having a ginger girlfriend is the insane shade of pink her cheeks go when I fluster her. “I looked it up. I figured if we were gonna look at the stars more, then I should know at least something compared to my girlfriend.”

“But I like teaching you about all of the stars,” I whisper. “Like that one—” I point to one of my favorite constellations, “is the constellation Cassiopeia. She was a vain queen that was banished to the skies, though I’d imagine it’s more fun out there anyway.”

As I begin talking through more of the stars and constellations, I feel her begin to delicately trace the veins on my hand with her fingertips. Homecoming was a month ago and yet it feels like all this time has completely escaped me. It feels like yesterday that we had kissed for the first time, with her in that little blue dress that makes me crazy to even think about. Of course, there’s a time and place to express those sorts of thoughts, and Sydney and I have definitely gone through that on occasion. Slowly but surely, I tell her all of the things that I want, that I’ve spent so many weeks longing for, and she tells me that she wants too. We take so much time, with all of the care that we could for one another just so we can fully experience the beauty of one another. I spend my hours worshipping at the altar that is her love. But most importantly, she treats me well. And, she lets me know that it was much better than it was with Stan, but that’s less of a testament to my skill and more of a testament to how truly gay she is. 

Right now though, neither of us wants anything more than to be in each other’s presence, watching the night sky above us.

“Han, would you want to move away with me someday?” she asks, cutting me off from my ramblings about the stars.

I grin. “Of course.” I pause, taking my earbud out and wrapping up the cord. “Where would you want to go?”

She takes a moment to ponder the question. I feel her faint breathing next to me, the cold air biting at my nose. “Somewhere warmer maybe.”

She takes another pause. “Just somewhere that I can be alone with you.”

“I’ll take you to California,” I reply. 

“Not back to Chicago?” she asks.

I pause, before silently deciding. “No.”

“We’ll get into college out in LA,” I continue, “Stan will too. I can take a shitty fast-food job and you’ll work at some cool record store or coffee shop.”

Stanley. After homecoming, Sydney and Stan got along better than ever. We still go over to his house and get high and giggle about the stupidest things. Stan explains to me why he’d love to transform into a jellyfish, though I tell him that maybe something more people-friendly would be more fun. Syd wants to be an eagle. I’d be a dove, just so I could keep up with her.

Sometimes, Dina will stop by my house too. Ever since she broke up with Brad, it’s like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. She’ll give quick rants about her AP classes or she’ll gush over the way Noah Danvers looked at her during History class. Of course, I get worried sometimes when she comes over and Syd’s hanging out on my bed that maybe Syd will look at her the way she used to. But quickly I realize that Sydney has had eyes for no one but me since I asked her to Homecoming, and what was once in their glances is now fully in ours. 

“I’ll give you back rubs after work,” she states.

I smile again. “And you’ll bring me coffee?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll get a History or English degree and you’ll do something cool with music,” I continue.

“Oh shush.” I can feel her eyes rolling at me. 

“You’ll do something with guitar, you’ll get a degree in songwriting or something. Or you’ll be a famous indie artist and I’ll watch the world fall in love with my girlfriend.” I rub my thumb on the back of her hand. “No matter what, it’ll be insanely cool.”

I pause, starting to get deep in thought about what our life could be like together. “We’ll get a cat, a ginger to match you.”

“What’ll we name it?” she asks.

“Probably some cottagecore bullshit like Honey.”

“Why did I even ask?”

I smile. Syd knows me better than anyone in this world.

“She’ll climb on all of our counters. She’ll steal all our paper towel rolls and we’ll share peanut butter with her on movie nights.”

“I can make pancakes for breakfast,” she offers.

“And I’ll make spaghetti for dinner.”

“We can marathon Boy Meets World fifty billion times,” she says.

“And we’ll have a hammock in the backyard where we’ll lie and watch the stars.”

Our words hang in the air like a promise. We both act like it’s just some uncertain fantasy, but we know deep down that somehow, we’ll always find a way to each other, to be together. So, we stare up at the night sky in utterly beautiful bliss. We lose track of time, lying in the grass, with only each other to worry about.

Once we’ve realized that we should be going, Sydney and I both sit up. She starts to unravel the cord for our earbuds so we can listen to music again. Her pajama bottoms are slightly damp from the grass and her ginger curls are ruffled, but she pays no mind. I pull up my polaroid from its wrist strap and open the lens.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Capturing you, Syd.” 

And as the camera flashes, I can feel this memory engraving itself into my mind. Me and Sydney Novak, two stars in the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all! I decided to post it all at once, so here it is. I hope you all liked it! It's real shitty, but it's been months in the making and I'm honestly proud that I finished something, especially a writing project. Thank you for reading!


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